The Minister's Assistant
by CeeSixAychTwelveOhSix
Summary: Abigail Turner was an ordinary girl. She didn't stand out in a crowd. Mostly, she just existed. Probably only a short story, find out the pairing yourself you lazy bums! Slightly AU, but I'm not changing anything. So there.
1. Existing

**A/N: **Bah. So. Attempt number two at posting this chapter. I forgot to put an author's note in numero uno :D Hokay. So. This was just an idea that was running around my head for a while. I started writing it as a one-shot, but then I thought I might like to break it up into chapters.

Oh, by the way, I'm such a retard, because I uploaded all of the chapters from number one to number four... but I put two, three, and four into another story x.x So I was all like, "why aren't the other chapters here?!" And then I was all like, "oh. Tee hee!"

Anyhoo... enjoy.

Abigail Turner was an ordinary sort of girl.

She did not stand out in a crowd. Her hair was brown, her eyes were too. Her skin wasn't too pale, nor too tan; there were no distinguishing moles or "beauty marks" on her face. She wasn't tall, she wasn't short, or fat, or thin. Mostly, she just existed.

It was a simple task, really, existing. Day in and day out, she went through her routine. Wake up, get ready for the day, go to work, return home, go back to bed. Rinse and repeat. Somewhere in there she took the time to eat a meal or two. As long as she stayed in her set path and didn't cause any waves, everything was alright.

She was the middle child out of five, used to being shoved in the back. The two oldest were a pair, and the two youngest had been inseparable at a very young age. Her older sisters were the beauty and the brains of the family. Both had numerous suitors during school. Her younger brother and sister were twins, and both had a knack for sports. They were still in school and, rumor had it, very popular. And she? Well, she was just... Abigail. By herself, nothing special, not bright, not dim, not anything Abigail.

It was a wonder she was so well-adjusted. But then, when you've gone through your entire life in the background, it's pointless to try and break out. It only unsettles everyone around you.

Abigail's year had not been extraordinary either. Her class had not had any shining stars standing above the rest as an example. Nor had there been any spectacularly bad examples; students that caused trouble, that wreaked havoc on the teachers, that commanded the wary respect of their peers and the angry attention of their superiors. No, those were the surrounding years.

More specifically, those were the Weasley boys. The twins, Fred and George, and the smart one, Percy.

Abigail had a secret. One that you wouldn't think would be true. People who just existed couldn't have that great of secrets, right? But Abigail kept one nonetheless. And her secret was this: she wanted desperately for people to notice her. Oh, she supposed that nothing was really wrong with being part of the background. If you like that sort of thing. But she wanted something more for herself. She didn't want to be resigned to the fate of her mother: to go through her life just existing, marrying the first man who proposed to her, and having children, one of which would go on to be exactly like her mother. She wanted something more.

It wasn't as if she wanted mass recognition. No, that would be asking for too much. Not even considering the fact that she was rather afraid of getting up in front of a crowd. No, her dream was simple. She just wanted someone, just one person, to see something special in her.

Abigail had another secret. She already had an idea of who she would like to notice her.

But the girl was a pragmatist. She knew that someone as driven and ambitious as _him_ could never notice someone as plain and ordinary as _her_. She wasn't especially good at arithmetic, but she did know that it just didn't add up.

"Turner. Are you finished with that paperwork I gave you?"

Silently the girl handed the small stack of papers to her superior. "Yes sir. They're finished." She did not look up at him, afraid that her face would belie her subversive thoughts.

Her boss inspected the papers quickly, giving a satisfied nod. "Very good." He peered over the rims of his horn-rimmed glasses. "Are you feeling alright, Miss Turner? You look a little peaky."

Abigail started at his use of formality. It wasn't often that he referred to his underlings by titles. Nor did he ever really seem to notice what was going on with his employees in the lower offices. After all, Percy Weasley was a very busy man. Being the youngest Minister of Magic in the entire history of the world would be a very trying job, Abigail supposed.

"Yes sir, I'm alright," she replied hesitantly, daring to look up and meet his eyes. "Just a little tired."

The red-haired man frowned slightly, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall to his back. "Not getting enough sleep?" he inquired.

Abigail was confused by this sudden show of interest. What in the world had tickled Minister Weasley's fancy to stop and talk with his least special employee? Not that she was complaining. "Not really, sir," she answered honestly. "I've a lot of things on my mind. Sleep doesn't really come easily." Immediately she felt shame; should she have shown weakness to her boss? Did she sound as if she were whining?

"Hmm." A neutral sound. Was that a good sign, or bad? "Some of your trouble has to do with work, I suppose?"

Abigail cringed almost imperceptibly. "Oh, no, sir. That's not it. No, I like work." A general statement, one a person might make without even thinking twice, without even meaning it, and yet Abigail felt terrible for saying it. Deep down, she knew that she wasn't satisfied with her job, with her house, with her entire life. But she couldn't say that.

Percy inspected the girl for a few moments silently before speaking again. "Would you accompany me to my office, Miss Turner?" His tone was brusque and businesslike, and Abigail cursed herself inwardly even as she nodded serenely and stood from her seat at her desk. She knew it. He had thought she was complaining about her work. He was infamous around the Ministry for being intolerant of workers who found the time to whine about their jobs. If they didn't want to be there, they could go ahead and leave. That was his policy. There were dozens of other qualified and eager people he could give jobs to; he didn't want to waste salaries on malcontents.

The pair walked to his office in complete silence, their journey delayed only slightly by a large group gathered in front of the elevator that refused to move for a few moments. The entire way to the Minister's office, Abigail kept her gaze trained on the ground. She refused to let any emotion show. It was true, she didn't exactly find her job fulfilling, but that didn't mean she wanted to be fired. She wasn't looking forward to the impending job search; it had been a complete stroke of luck that a cousin had been able to secure her a spot in the ministry, and she had worked her way up to a position that paid just enough for her to afford her flat without need for a roommate. She was terrible at interviews, always stuttering and coming off as awkward and stupid. Abigail wasn't stupid. She wasn't incredibly intelligent, but she certainly wasn't stupid.

Percy opened the door to his office and gallantly motioned his young employee in. He even went as far as to pull her chair out for her. Abigail sat silently, wondering if he was always this kind to people he was planning on firing. She watched as he moved around to the other side of his desk and sat in his large executive desk chair. The man folded his hands and rested them on the top of his desk before clearing his throat softly. "I've been reading over your file, Miss Turner," he began solemnly.

Here it comes, thought Abigail with a slight edge of sadness.

"It seems you've been working here for six years now? Since a year after your graduation." He cocked his head slightly. "You were in Hufflepuff, correct?"

An alarm went off in Abigail's head. Nowhere on her file did it mention her house, as far as she knew. "Um, that's right, sir." She couldn't be too sure, but she might have felt a flush slowly rising to her cheeks.

Percy leaned back slightly in his chair. "What did you want to do with your life, Miss Turner? When you were in school."

Abigail shrugged nervously. "I was never really sure, sir. At my career meeting, Professor Sprout told me that I could go into any field." She didn't add that she had assumed that was a kind brush-off meaning that no one had any clue what she was good at, not even her teachers.

"Indeed." The Minister's eyes stared intently at the girl for a few moments. "Miss Turner, your records show that you are an exceptional worker. All of your work is in on time, and completely satisfactory. Every one of your supervisors has recommended you to me for a promotion." Abigail's eyes went wide. What? How was that possible? She wasn't anything special... was she? Percy continued. "I have considered their suggestions and come to a decision."

Abigail steeled herself for disappointment. No longer would she be an underling. Oh, no, now she would be assistant to the assistant to the assistant manager. What a step up.

"Miss Turner, I am promoting you to be my personal assistant."

Abigail's jaw dropped open. "S-sir?"

Percy smiled wryly. "Not what you expected, Miss Turner?" He took her shocked silence as a firm "yes". He nodded. "Good. I don't like being predictable. Now. I would like you to take the rest of the day off, and when you come to work tomorrow you will report to my office."

Abigail nodded, unable to speak, and rose from her chair.

"Oh, and Miss Turner?"

She turned around. "Yes?" she managed to push out.

"Don't expect this to be a cushy job," he warned. "I chose you because I saw ambition and potential in you. Don't let me down."

Abigail nodded, bemused. "Yes, sir. I mean, I won't, sir. Thank you, sir!"

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips again, as he waved her out the door. She hurried out, a spring in her step that hadn't been there when she'd entered his office.

Percy chuckled to himself as he watched her go. He swiveled around in his chair and looked out the large window that was charmed to show what ever view he chose. Today his office was overlooking a rugged ocean cliff. He gazed out the window, lost in his thoughts. Abigail Turner... He remembered the silent, slightly mousy girl in the year under him at Hogwarts that he always found in the library, diligently finishing her homework. The girl who sat at the back of every class. He had always been able to see her when he'd walked by the open doors on his free periods or frequent Head Boy patrols. He'd always wondered what had become of the girl after she graduated.

Now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. And if he had been reading her right, he could see that she was still attracted to him.

Perfect.

Percy shook his head violently. "Stop it, Weasley," he reprimanded himself vocally. "She's your employee. Off limits." He turned his attention to the watch on his wrist. Damn. Meeting in three minutes. Well. Percy stood from his chair. No one will fault the Minister of Magic for being two minutes late, now will they?


	2. Assistant

"Miss Turner, what am I doing today?"

Abigail snapped her fingers and a list appeared in her hand. She pushed the bridge of her reading glasses up her nose and began to recite, not really needing the words in front of her. "At ten o'clock this morning you have a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall in her office. Password is Patronus." Percy smiled slightly; his favorite professor had attempted to carry on Dumbledore's tradition of using a sweet for the Head office's password, but had soon discarded that tradition after forgetting three of the "nonsensical" passwords in a week. She now opted to use advanced spells, so she wouldn't be constantly bothered by the younger students. "Then you're free until your meeting with the heads of departments at two o'clock this afternoon. You're supposed to discuss the budget and the reformed processes for applying for fringe benefits." The Minister groaned inwardly; the pompous old men weren't going to like the changes he had in mind and would fight it tooth-and-nail, but Percy was determined to make them. He didn't want families like his own to struggle as much as the Weasleys had. "Then you need to be at the Leaky Cauldron by six o'clock this evening because you have a diplomacy meeting with the Ministers of Magic from Bulgaria and Ethiopia." Percy snorted; diplomacy meeting indeed. The two boisterous men would proceed to get drunk on the finest (and strongest) alcohol that wizarding money could buy, then argue for a half hour before passing out, leaving Percy to foot the bill and make sure they arrived at the proper embassies safely.

He cleared his throat imperceptibly. "Is that all?" Abigail nodded. "What about the reports on-"

"The illegal trafficking of baby unicorns as pets? Taken care of, sir. As are the accounts on how much the auror department has spent on makeup in the last year," she added, anticipating his next question. She withheld a smile at the bemused expression on her boss's face. "Anything else, sir?"

A small second of hesitation. "Actually, yes," Percy stated.

"Sir?" Abigail was stunned; in her three months of being the Minister of Magic's personal assistant, she hadn't ever forgotten something on the list. She glanced over the parchment. No... no, she hadn't forgotten anything. What could he want?

Percy ran a hand through his curly hair, a habit that he had when he was nervous. Which wasn't often. "I'd like you to come have lunch with me," he explained. "To talk about office policy and... things. That is, if you don't have any other plans."

Abigail's shock turned to amusement. He must have had an ulterior motive, because Percy Weasley was almost never as inarticulate as to use a word such as "things". She hadn't even known the word was in his vocabulary. So whatever he really wanted must have really shaken him up. Well, best to just go along with him. "Yes, sir, that sounds fine," she replied kindly. "I have a few errands to finish up around the office this morning, but I'll be done long before noon. Would you like to meet in Hogsmeade? Your meeting with Professor McGonagall should be over by then, and you could just walk down to the village."

Percy nodded on autopilot. It was his wont to allow Abigail to do most of his thinking for him. "Right. And don't be late," he added, the perfunctory warning. Both of them knew that there was more of a chance that Percy would turn into a woman than there was of Abigail being late.

The Minister of Magic stood up and crossed to the coat hanger near his office door. He pulled on his heavy winter robe and placed a hat on the top of his head. "Now. I'll see you at noon. I'm off to... um..."

Abigail smiled. "Hogwarts, sir. Apparate to Hogsmeade, then walk to Hogwarts."

Percy nodded, relieved. "Of course. Thank you." He concentrated for a second and was gone with a pop.

His assistant smiled fondly after her boss. Snapping her fingers, she banished the list and went about Minister Weasley's office, tidying up the papers on his desk. A smile crossed Abigail's face as she thought how, if someone had told her four months ago that she would be the Minister of Magic's personal assistant, she would have had them committed to the psych ward at St. Mungo's. And yet, here she was, practically running the poor man's life.

Working at the ministry had become considerably less hectic for everyone since the Minister had taken an assistant. Everything was better organized (a skill Percy had lost when put in charge of hundreds of workers), and the workers were generally happier.

Surprisingly, so was Abigail.

She hadn't thought that maybe the reason she was always shoved into the background was because she lacked self-esteem. It had just sort of happened all her life. But Professor Sprout hadn't been lying to Abigail on her career evaluation; the girl was able to work practically anywhere because she was a hard worker with a flair for organization.

Abigail thanked Merlin every day that Minister Weasley had seen that in her.

Even if that was the only thing he saw in her.

The girl prided herself on her professionalism; she was able to work closely with the Minister without letting her long-harbored feelings for him get in the way. Still, Abigail found it increasingly hard each day to come to work for the man, practically plan out his day for him, clean his office, memorize every single detail of his life... well, it felt like she was his wife.

And that was not a feeling she enjoyed. Not when it wasn't real.

Abigail stood up straight with a sigh. She carefully surveyed the room, checking to see if there was anything out of place. Forcing herself to put on a mild smile, she left the room. Off to collect those reports.


	3. Barmaid

The Three Broomsticks was crowded again. It was always crowded during the lunch hour, but more so on Fridays. And yet, Madame Rosmerta observed, that was always the day that the Minister chose to have lunch in her establishment. He and his... assistant. Ever since that one day a month ago, the pair had shown up once a week for lunch. And as far as anyone who frequented the restaurant could tell, Percy Weasley and Abigail Turner talked very little about business.

The barmaid smiled at the pair as she dried a glass with a dishrag. The girl was currently laughing at something that the man had said. He was grinning widely at her reaction. It was in these rare moments, when he didn't think anyone else was watching, that Percy actually looked his age: a young man in his mid- to late-twenties. It was an interesting development, the effect this girl had on the brainiest Weasley. Rosmerta had the unique advantage of watching the vast majority of England's wizard children grow up. Some of the students changed vastly over their seven years at school, not always for the better, and others hardly changed at all. Percy had been one who had only changed in subtle ways; the innocent and intelligent child grew into an ambitious and often self-serving politician. Some people would have said that he hadn't changed, but Rosmerta knew better. At the end of his seventh year, the boy had been solely focused on getting what he wanted; hardly deserving of the loyal and brave title of Gryffindor, in the woman's opinion.

But then... well, he had changed again. Becoming Minister so early had been sort of a shock to the boy (he was still a boy to her), and he hadn't known what to do with himself. The all-powerful all-knowing Percy Weasley had gotten lost amidst the politics and power involved in his position, and he had started to lose his drive.

And then he hired _her_.

Rosmerta turned to take two boys' orders, still watching the pair out of the corner of her eye. She remembered Abigail rather vaguely from the girl's infrequent visits on Hogsmeade weekends; most of the time she had sat in the corner by herself, sipping her butterbeer silently, most often while reading a book. She had always seemed as if she weren't really there, as if she expected people to be able to see right through her. Maybe she had. Maybe they did. But being invisible gave her an advantage, whether she knew it or not. She was an observer. She took in all that she saw around her and subconsciously stored away the information for future reference. Rosmerta was willing to bet that, if the older woman were to name a date, Abigail would be able to tell her exactly who had been in the pub and what each person had been wearing.

But this Abigail was not timid, hiding in the corner with her drink and her book. This Abigail was laughing and chatting with the Minister of Magic like they were best friends (although she still called him "sir", and he still called her "Miss Turner". It was a matter of habit). Gone was her heavy, shapeless school robe and in its place were a sensible, past-the-knees skirt and a white blouse. Not the height of fashion, but they looked nice on her. Her face was no longer uncertain; instead, it glowed with happiness and was frequently pulled into a smile.

She had changed. And she had changed Percy, too. Anyone within a five mile radius could see the effect she had on him. People around them had to practically dodge the adoring looks he sent in her direction. His feelings were obvious to everyone.

Everyone except her.

Rosmerta sighed happily as she carried an order over to a table of three girls. It was just like a romance novel. And how she enjoyed romance novels. Well, the girl would figure it out eventually, if Percy played his cards right.


	4. Gourmet

"Miss Turner? Are you awake?"

Abigail cracked open an eye and glanced over to her bedroom doorway. She sat up in bed hurriedly. "Sir? What are you doing here?"

The Minister smiled shyly and held up a small basket. "I figured you might like some soup." His smile grew wider. "My mother's recipe, so it's the best there is." He walked into the room and crossed to sit on the foot of the bed, setting the basket on the floor beside him. "How are you feeling?"

Abigail smiled weakly. "I'm alright," she said hoarsely, wincing as the words grated against her throat. "I should be fine to come in tomorrow-"

Percy held up a hand to stop her. "I don't think so," he retorted as he searched her tired face. "You look exhausted." Indeed, she had dark circles under her eyes from coughing herself awake at night, and she was incredibly pale. He shook his head; no way was he going to let her come to work in that condition. "You're going to stay at home until you're completely recovered, and no buts about it."

The girl sighed, withholding a smile. "Yes sir," she replied patiently. "Whatever you say."

Percy grinned. "Don't you 'whatever you say' me, Miss Turner! I know where you live."

Abigail laughed as much as her sore throat would allow, eventually terminating into a cough. She winced; whatever bug she'd caught at the office wasn't friendly.

Speaking of friendly... A thought occurred to Abigail. It wasn't the first time that it had, but, maybe due to her sickness, it was the first time she'd had the courage to say something. "Sir, you know, it's a little strange that you still refer to me as 'Miss Turner.'" She hesitated for a moment. "You _can_ call me Abigail. After all, you are my boss."

The Minister of Magic raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I hadn't noticed." He laughed at the withering glare the girl hurled in his direction. "A novel idea indeed! In that case, you can call me Percy. After all, you are my brain."

The assistant smiled as she leaned back against her pillow. "Hmm. Percy. It sounds nice." She yawned widely, her eyes drooping.

Percy smiled tenderly at the girl. "Yes, it does," he whispered in reply. He stood to leave, but a thought occurred to him. "Abigail," he called softly, regretting keeping the girl from her sleep.

Abigail forced her eyes to open. "Yes si- um, Percy?" she asked sleepily.

The man ran a hand through his hair. "I was wondering, if you didn't have any other plans, if you would maybe like to accompany me to visit my family on Christmas later this month? You don't have to," he added quickly, "not if you don't want to..."

A wide smile spread across the girl's face. "I'd like that very much, Percy," she informed him.

Relief washed over the red-head and he grinned. "Wonderful!" In a show of rare emotion, he bent down and brushed the hair off of his assistant's face. "Now get some sleep," he ordered softly, "and floo me when you're absolutely one-hundred percent well again."

Abigail nodded automatically, not really paying attention to his words. She was still stuck on the small display of emotion that had occurred only moments before. Had he really touched her? Her heart fluttered at the thought as she watched his retreating form. Maybe being sick wasn't so bad.


	5. Conflict

**A/N:** Pardon the long hiatus on the updatage. I figured passing all of my classes was a little bit more important than finishing chapter five. Of course, I was incredibly wrong in that assumption. Do forgive me.

All sarcasm aside, I have to say that I'm very pleased with this chapter. I'm pretty sure it's the longest piece of literature I've ever written that didn't come with a length requirement. I'm also really happy to be writing again; I went through an incredibly dry period. I think the last thing I wrote before finishing this was a sonnet for English class.

Just a little warning: I put a naughty word in this chapter (gasp!) and repeated it a few times (double gasp!). Please forgive my dirty, dirty mouth.

And now read.

* * *

Abigail didn't know what she'd been expecting when she'd gotten invited to the Weasleys' for Christmas, but it hadn't been anything close to what she saw upon arrival. The multiple-leveled stone cottage known as The Burrow (as Percy had affectionately informed her) did not match the image she'd held in her head of what the Minister of Magic's childhood home looked like. Although, she reflected, she shouldn't have been so surprised; through their many "lunch meetings" Abigail had gotten to know Percy better than she knew herself. Many of her original ideas of how he behaved or what he thought had been quickly eradicated and, in their place, a deep sense of respect and caring had grown for the young man. Yes, it was true: she cared for Percy Weasley, her schoolgirl crush, her boss, her best friend. And there were some moments when she thought, although she admitted that the thought was a far stretch, that he returned that care. But that couldn't be. He was her boss. She shouldn't have even been thinking about him like that.

Percy took a deep breath as he knocked on the back door of the Burrow. Abigail noticed that his free hand was clenched into a fist at his side; he was restraining himself from running it through his hair. She had been informed of his past relationship with his family during one of their long talks. How he had deserted them in a fit of stupidity. How they had welcomed him back, although there was still tension between them (mostly him and the twins). How he regretted his choice to defect every day. But only at that moment did she truly realize just how much Percy was affected by his past. It was obvious in the boy's face that he just wanted to be fully accepted back into his family. It was also obvious that he didn't think it would ever happen.

He turned to look at his assistant and smiled weakly. "Don't be nervous," he encouraged her while looking as if he needed some encouragement himself. "Mum's going to love you, and so will everyone else."

Abigail wondered for a moment why that sounded suspiciously like something a boy would tell his girlfriend upon "meeting the parents", but her thought process was interrupted by the door being flung open. The pair was met by a child, who couldn't have been more than five years old, with blonde hair and freckles. Her wide eyes stared up at the two standing on the porch before recognition dawned on her cherubic face. "Uncle Percy!" she shrieked cutely. "Mummy, Uncle Percy and his friend are here!"

A tall man with long red hair came up behind the girl and swept her up into his arms. "Aren't you going to invite them in, Nicole?" he asked the child. She nodded fervently and he laughed. "I suppose that's good enough." He set the girl down and watched her run off, then turned to look at the pair still waiting nervously to come in. He held out his hand to his younger brother. "Happy Christmas, Perce."

Percy smiled nervously. "Happy Christmas, Bill." He glanced over at Abigail. "This is my oldest brother, Bill," he explained. "Bill, this is my... this is Abigail." The girl stifled a giggle; now that they had reverted to using each other's first names, she'd ceased to have a title.

Bill smiled warmly at the girl. "It's nice to meet you, Abigail. Happy Christmas." He held out his hand to the young woman who shook it shyly, mumbling a timid "happy Christmas" in return. "Well, come on in! Mum's been waiting for you two."

The reluctant pair followed the eldest Weasley child cautiously into what Abigail suspected was intended to be a living room but what ended up looking more-or-less like a demolition site. The nervous girl smiled at the organized chaos and watched the action unfolding before her very eyes: a sea of red hair dotted by the occasional blonde or brunette swirled under the Christmas tree, chatting loudly and throwing around brightly wrapped packages. The youngest two of the first Weasley brood and their significant others were the most involved in the action; the only girl (Ginny, Percy had mentioned) and her boyfriend (husband? And wasn't he Harry Potter?) were busy levitating a smallish package over the youngest boy Weasley's girlfriend's head, and her boyfriend (Abigail assumed it was Ron, since he wasn't a twin and didn't look like he tamed dragons) was trying to hide his laughter as she jumped at the box, trying to get it down. She stopped her efforts long enough to glare at Ron and smack him in the stomach, leaving him gasping for breath. Abigail stifled a giggle as she watched their antics unfold, not really paying much attention to what else was going on around her.

Abigail jumped as she felt two people, one on each side of her, grab her arms and spin her around. "Well, what have we here, George?" one voice asked.

"Well, Fred, it seems to be a lady."

"What's a lady doing at this little shindig, George?"

"I don't know, Fred. Perhaps she's here with Percy!"

"Don't insult the lady's taste, George."

"True, Fred, true. She could definitely do much better than His Pomposity-"

The clearing of a throat interrupted the twins' banter and they stopped spinning Abigail around, letting her go. She stumbled about for a few moments before a strong pair of arms caught her. "And just what do you two think you're doing to my assistant?"

Fred and George shared an amused glance. "Just having a bit of fun, Perce," Fred (or was it George?) replied.

"Yeah. Just spreading Christmas cheer," added George (or was it Fred?). "No harm done."

Percy only held on to Abigail tighter, his voice gaining a slight edge. "Well, stop it. Nobody needs your type of Christmas cheer." It was obvious by the tension in his every fiber and the tone of his voice that Percy was still very much at odds with his twin brothers. Everyone in the room had seemed to notice the spat beginning to form, as all talking had ceased and all eyes were fixated on the four standing in the middle of the room, leaving only the soft sound of Christmas carols playing from the wireless in the corner.

One of the twins rolled his eyes. "Oh, Please. Lighten up, _Minister_." Percy clenched his hands into fists, his eyes narrowing at his brothers.

Abigail finally pulled herself steadily up on her feet and turned to face her boss. "Percy, really, it's alright." She spoke softly, her words intended for his ears only. "No harm done." His glare intensified, his cold eyes attempting to bore holes into the twins' foreheads. She spoke again. "Please, Percy. It's Christmas." He went rigid for a moment before finally relaxing.

Percy let out a deep breath. "You're right," he said to his brothers, not noticing the identical looks of shock on their faces, as well as on the rest of the family. "It's Christmas." He turned his head and winked at Abigail, who smiled gratefully in return. Percy turned to look at the rest of his family. "Mum, Dad, everyone, this is Abigail," he said with a proud smile. "Abigail, this is Mum, Dad, Bill, Fleur, Nicole, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry. Charlie's girlfriend couldn't make it today; she's in Romania with her family." The room echoed with choruses of "hello", "hi", "good to meet you", and one distinct "it's so nice to finally meet you, dear" from the family's matriarch. Abigail smiled shyly and waved in reply before being propelled to a seat on the couch by an anonymous hand on her arm. She looked to her right to see a rather sheepish-looking minister of magic smiling at her. "Thanks," he whispered. "I don't want to think how badly I could have ruined everything."

Abigail shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "Don't be hard on yourself, Percy. Family can be... difficult, to say the least." Indeed, thought the girl, there had been times growing up when she had felt like screaming at her older sisters until her voice disappeared. And her parents... well, that was another story entirely.

The girl was jolted out of her reverie by the sensation of an arm being wrapped around her shoulder. Abigail looked up to see a pair of wide, hopeful eyes peering down at her. A shock registered in her mind as she realized that Percy, her boss, her best friend, had just put his arm around her and was waiting to see her reaction. Her smile widened as she leaned back into his arm, still looking up in order to see _his _reaction. To her unimaginable glee, Percy's face turned upwards into a smile and his posture relaxed; he looked positively pleased with himself.

"Mum, can we open presents now?"

The remark earned one Ronald Weasley a smack on the shoulder from Hermione and a disapproving look from his mother, but Mr. Weasley seemed to agree with his youngest son. "I think we've kept them waiting long enough, don't you Molly dear? Let's let the kids open their gifts."

The declaration was met with mixed feelings, (Abigail noted that she heard a definite grumbling against the use of the word "kids") but generally speaking, the reception of the next order of business was cheerful. Brightly colored packages were tossed around the room amidst shouts and laughter, bits of ribbon flying into the air and landing on the heads of the attendees. Abigail was perfectly content to watch the antics of the twins and, more accurately, their gifts to their family, but she soon found herself distracted by a slight weight on her lap. The minister's assistant found herself looking up into the smiling eyes of the family's matriarch. "Happy Christmas, dear," Molly said warmly.

Abigail felt a flush rising to her cheeks. "You didn't have to get me anything, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, goodness, it was the least I could do," the older woman dismissed with a wave of her hand. "And please, call me Molly."

The girl found herself rendered speechless (not for the first time by a Weasley, assuredly), and responded with a weak, "Thank you, Molly." Under the eager gaze of her boss' mother, Abigail carefully unwrapped the lumpy wrapping paper to reveal an equally lumpy but well-crafted jumper, a soft yellow color with a bright orange letter "A" stitched on the front. The girl's eyes went wide. "Oh, Molly, I love it! Did you make this? It's simply lovely!"

Mrs. Weasley grinned proudly while making a half-hearted attempt to look modest. "Really, it was nothing, dear. Percy has told me quite a bit about you, you know. I feel like I've known you for quite some time. Why, even while he was in-"

"Mother!" Percy interrupted hurriedly, his ears a curious shade of maroon. "It's getting to be a bit late, don't you think? Abigail and I had best move along."

Molly's smile faded slightly at her third son's news. "So soon? Wouldn't you like to stay for pudding?"

Percy did look truly reluctant to leave, but he shook his head. "I wish we could, mother, but I need to be back at the office in an hour, and I promised I'd walk Abigail home." He stood and offered a hand to his assistant before turning his attention to the room full of his siblings. Currently they were all staring at him blankly; the twins seemed to be attempting to restrain identical glares. The family relaxed, however, when Percy enveloped his mother in a warm hug.

Molly smiled at her son as he pulled away and reached up to pat his cheek. "It was lovely to see you, Percy. Happy Christmas." She turned her gaze on her child's assistant and smiled strangely, almost knowingly. "And it was nice finally meeting you, dear." Molly took a step towards Abigail and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. It was all the girl could do to keep breathing. Eventually, she was released, and the girl offered a shy smile to the older woman.

After a whirlwind of goodbyes from the rest of the Weasley clan and Co., Abigail found herself being walked down the road by Percy. They traveled in silence for a few minutes with only the sound of the snow crunching as they stepped. Finally, Percy nervously broke the silence. "So. Now you've experienced the Weasleys and lived to tell the tale..."

Abigail laughed. "Your family certainly is lively, I'll give you that."

The red-headed man shook his head ruefully. "For a moment there, I thought Fred and George were going to make everything difficult," he mused. Abigail said nothing in reply, waiting for her boss to continue. "They've done it all my life, you know," Percy confessed. "They seem to thrive on my misery. Not just mine, though; Ron's suffered his fair share of trouble at their hands." He went quiet suddenly. "But Ron still seems to adore them..."

The girl gently rested her hand on Percy's arm. "Percy..." She wanted to comfort him, but had nothing to say.

Not quite thankfully, Percy interrupted her. "No, don't. It's my fault. I always pushed him too hard. I pushed all of them. It's no wonder they hate me..."

"Stop it," Abigail broke in fervently, halting mid-step. "You're just being stupid. They're your family! They don't hate you. So stop being a... well, an ass about this!"

For a moment, the girl was frightened that she'd overstepped her boundaries. She was certainly shocked at the words that had left her mouth; never in her life had Abigail Turner used profanity, and she would never have sworn at her boss! Her face slowly drained of all color, and it seemed that suddenly nothing in the world was more interesting than the snow under her feet.

But then she heard a soft chuckle escape Percy's lips. "How is it that you always say exactly what I need to hear?" A very shocked gaze met one of bemusement and took in the wry smile gracing his features.

"You're not angry with me?" whispered an extremely shaken assistant.

Percy shook his head, unable to stop smiling. "No. You're right. I am being an ass." The man continued walking and Abigail followed, hardly believing the conversation that was taking place. She considered Percy her best friend and knew that his heart was in the right place. She also knew that he could be a bit proud. "His Pomposity," as the twins had called him. Admitting that he was an ass (or even merely a derriere) was an incredible stretch of humility for the Minister of Magic.

"I seem to forget that the world doesn't revolve around me sometimes," he continued, earning a derisive snort from Abigail. He hid his grin and she attempted to hide her blush. "You keep me honest, Abigail. An oddly endearing quality, that." He glanced around the street where they stood before gripping his assistant's arm. Abigail braced herself for the oncoming unpleasantness of side-along apparition. Once the feeling of being squeezed through a plastic tube subsided, she recognized her surroundings to be her front porch.

"And is that the only reason that you keep me around?" the girl queried teasingly. She looked up into Percy's eyes in anticipation of a witty remark only to find a sort of burningly intense look peering back at her. Her pulse quickened, but she made no move to go inside.

Percy must have noticed that she had picked up on their proximity, for he became particularly flustered. "N-no," he stuttered, running a hand through his curls. "You also make a spectacular pot of tea..." By the time he finished his sentence, his voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, a fact duly noted by one Miss Abigail Turner. His ears were also a bright red and matched the scarlet of the girl's cheeks.

Neither knew exactly what had come over them: one minute the pair was standing awkwardly in front of the door of the flat, and the next minute Percy Weasley was kissing Abigail Turner. On a passionate scale, the kiss hardly registered; there were no open mouths, or wandering hands. It might even have been classified as boring. But to Abigail it was perfect. One hand was holding her wrist, the other cupping her cheek. There wasn't too much pressure on her lips; just enough to let her know that Percy was there, kissing her.

_Percy_ was there. Percy Weasley, the boy she had sustained feelings for since teenagerdom. There could be nothing more perfect in the entire world.

Unfortunately, Percy himself didn't exactly seem to agree. After a few moments he broke the kiss and hastily let go of Abigail, stepping backward and almost tripping on the hem of his robes. "I... goodbye, Miss Turner," he said hurriedly, mere seconds before apparating away.

Dazedly, Abigail unlocked her flat and walked in. Her movements were almost robotic as she readied herself for bed, her mind replaying the entire kiss over and over. At first a feeling of utter contentment swept over her, only to be replaced by one of sorrow as she remembered Percy's parting words.

He had called her "Miss Turner" again.


	6. Observer

**A/N:** Hey! I'm learning French! Whee!  
So this chapter is short. So sue me. I don't particularly care, because I happen to like it and think it works rather perfectly. So there.  
Enjoy!

* * *

These days, it was harder than anything to watch Percy at work.

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, head of the auror department and family friend of the Weasleys, watched from her safe vantage point down the hall as the Minister of Magic hesitated outside of the door to his office. The man looked almost as if he would rather face a thousand wounded manticores with only a stick of butter as a weapon than enter his headquarters at the ministry and face the danger within.

The danger, of course, being the Minister's assistant.

Tonks may have been clumsy, loud, eccentric, quick-tempered, and married to a werewolf (although the last one wasn't exactly a detrimental trait), but she was not stupid. She had noticed the looks that Percy had shot Abigail when he thought no one was looking since he had hired the girl. She'd also seen similar looks shot by the girl in return. It didn't take too many brain cells to figure out that the two were crazy about each other, although neither one seemed to realize the other's feelings. And while it was slightly aggravating at times, all-in-all the pair's delicate dance around each other was considered adorable by the office.

That pronouncement was withdrawn after Christmas, however.

The metamorphmagus wasn't the only person in the collective departments of the ministry to have noticed the sudden change in the minister's attitude toward his assistant and vice-versa, but she was the one who could explain it. Having been in a similar situation herself, Tonks knew (without anyone saying anything) that over Christmas break the two had inadvertently let feelings show, and one of the two (no doubt Percy) had decided that the feelings were improper, leaving the other (Abigail, of course) languishing away with a broken heart.

Of course, the young girl's symptoms weren't as evident as Nymphadora's had been; after all, Abigail didn't exactly have the benefit of color-changing hair, now did she? But the signs were there: the girl wasn't spending as much time on her appearance as she had, her smile took longer to show and looked forced when it did, and it was obvious (to Tonks, at least,) that she wasn't eating. To anyone else, it might look like the assistant was suffering from fatigue, or possibly a cold.

Tonks knew better.

Looking at Percy, the auror decided two things: one, that the man was obviously an idiot; and two, that he thought he was doing the right thing.

She smiled, turning to look at the photograph pinned to her office wall. Really, he reminded her so much of Remus right now. And that had to be a good omen, because look how her situation had turned out!

Nymphadora absently drummed the fingers of her left hand on her desk, admiring the light from the small diamond on her ring finger. It would all work out, she was sure.


	7. Do Overs

**A/N:** I've decided that this will be the second-to-last chapter.  
Enjoy it while it lasts, loves.

* * *

It was impossible to get any work done with _him_ practically sneaking around the office.

Sure, it was difficult to face him with a smile, pretending that everything was perfectly fine. But it was even worse knowing that he was purposefully avoiding her.

Which was why Abigail chose to floo in sick and skip work on a very gloomy Wednesday morning.

When she thought about it, Wednesday was the perfect day to miss. It wasn't conspicuous like a Monday or Friday. Tuesday was bad, because it was the day to finish all of Monday's left over work and start on Wednesday's. Thursday was similar. That only left one weekday.

And that was why, on a dreary January Wednesday, Abigail Turner found herself sitting at her kitchen table, holding a mug of tea in one hand and the _Daily Prophet_ in the other. Her eyes were trained on the classified advertisements, as they always were when she first opened the paper. Abigail had a routine: skim the classifieds, read the celebrity gossip, do the crossword, _then_ read the boring political news. It was a habit from her childhood, dating back to the years she had desperately tried to convince her father to buy her an owl of her own. It made her smile to think of how unprofessional her newspaper reading was; it drove Percy mad.

Abigail's smile left just as soon as it had come and she set down the paper. She had done it again; thought of him as "Percy" instead of "Mr. Weasley" or "the Minister". It always brought a halt to whatever she was doing, when she thought of how they used to be friends. Maybe even more. How they were a "they"...

But that was before Christmas. Before the biggest, most exciting, most devastating event of Abigail's life.

The girl stood up and turned her back on the kitchen table, sighing heavily. It didn't make any sense. She had thought that everything was going so well; Christmas at the Burrow had been wonderful, and Percy had put his arm around her shoulder and held her hand and everything. And then, at her door, he had leaned in and kissed her, and it was...

It was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

But then he had jumped away, and called her Miss Turner, and practically run away, and all Abigail had been able to think was that she must have done something wrong, been too forward, for Percy to run away from her. Obviously she had read him wrong.

And now he was avoiding her at the office. He showed up incredibly early, left a list of things for her to do on her desk, and departed for whatever business he had, whether real or make-believe. And Abigail was left to wallow in her misery and file papers.

She supposed it was too much to ask that he stick around long enough for someone to explain just what had transpired between them that fateful night.

A knock at the door startled the girl out of her thoughts. A look of curiosity crossed Abigail's face as she called out, "Just a minute!" She had no idea who might be at the door; no one but Percy knew that she was missing work today, and she hadn't been expecting anyone. To top it all off, she wasn't exactly dressed for company; the woman was still in her baggy sweatpants and overlarge shirt that she had worn to bed, covered by a lime green bathrobe. Nevertheless, her mother had raised her to always be hospitable, and so Abigail opened the door.

She wished she had just ignored the knock.

"Miss Turner. May I come in?"

His curly hair was disheveled, as if he'd just run his hand through it (which he probably had, as it was a nervous habit and the man looked particularly nervous at this point). He was dressed most casually, wearing his shabbiest work robes and a pair of thick maroon mittens (Abigail suspected he had stolen them from his youngest brother), but still managed to give off an air of put-togetherness. His eyes seemed guarded, uncertain.

The last thing Abigail wanted to do was invite him in, but of course that was exactly what she did. "Certainly, Minister," she croaked, flushing at the sound of her own voice; she sounded as if she'd been caught off guard. Which she had. But she didn't want to admit it.

Percy strode into his assistant's flat, taking in the familiar surroundings. Although he had only visited Abigail at her home twice before, he had every detail of her residence committed to memory. It was a rather annoying trait, he admitted to himself, as he could never rely on his photographic memory when he most wanted it. It was only useful for trivial matters.

Abigail waited nervously for Percy to say something, anything, that would explain his sudden appearance in her home. Really, seeing his face was the last thing she'd wanted to do that day; it hurt enough to merely _think_ about him. She wished he would just state his business and leave her to her misery. It soon became apparent, however, that the man needed to be urged a little. "Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

"Yes, in fact, there is," Percy replied slowly, gazing at the collection of little trinkets lined up on the top of the tiny living room's single bookcase. "You could tell me why you're missing work today." He turned to look at Abigail and took a moment to size her up. "You don't seem ill."

"Well, I feel ill," the girl replied flatly. "Is that all?" She was surprised at her tone; she had never spoken to Percy that way before. She had never spoken to _anyone_ that way before. Of course, she didn't exactly feel like herself lately.

"No, that's not all," the Minister retorted swiftly, annoyance showing in his eyes. "I don't understand why you persist in behaving this way, Miss Turner." If he saw the shock and disbelief on his assistant's face, he didn't let on. "All month you've been acting most disagreeable, and I'd like to get your assurance that it will stop immediately."

The businesslike tone of his voice and the utter arrogance in his voice were what ultimately drove Abigail to react as she did. "_I've_ been acting disagreeable? I'm not the one who sneaks in and out of the office every day. _I_ don't avoid making eye contact with _you._ If you ask me, _sir_, you're behaving like a child, and I'm sick of it. _That_ is why I'm not at the office today, and I just may never come back!" Left breathless by her outburst, Abigail stood, glaring at her boss, practically gasping for air.

Percy, for his part, stood with his mouth gaping open as he stared at the girl. Obviously, he found his assistant's fervent revelation difficult to digest. "Wh... but... never come back?" the man squeaked. "But you... you... I..."

"You heard me," Abigail forced out, though hardly believing her own ears. "I quit. Find another assistant. I can't work for you if you're going to ignore my existence." It was funny; months earlier, the girl had been resigned to being a permanent part of the crowd. Now, she had felt what it was like to actually be someone and she couldn't bring herself to let that feeling go.

"But..." Percy was clearly in shock. "Where will you go?"

The question lacked all malice, startling Abigail. She turned away and answered, "I'm not sure. With my past experience I'm sure I could go almost anywhere. Maybe I'll ask Fred and George if they need a secretary." She had added that last bit to get a reaction out of her (former) boss. Even in her own mind, it felt cruel, and not like her usual self at all, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

The reaction she got wasn't the one she expected. "I... I'm sure they'd appreciate your abilities," Percy replied quietly. She turned around, shocked, and watched as the Minister walked towards the door to her flat. "I'll go put up a notice in the office alerting the heads to my need of a new assistant." He reached out for the door handle and hesitated, glancing back at the girl. "You've changed, Miss Turner."

"What?" The girl's brow furrowed. "No I haven't."

"Yes, you have," Percy insisted, turning away from the door and back to the girl. "You're not the same Abigail I promoted. You're more confident, more..." He sighed. "More intelligent than I'd given you credit for at the time." He laughed humorlessly. "I suppose you'd find it amusing if I told you the reason I hired you in the first place."

Abigail swallowed, not sure whether or not to expect an insult. "And that would be because...?"

"You fascinated me," he replied bluntly. "Ever since Hogwarts. You were the unattainable Hufflepuff I always saw between classes and in the library, always keeping to herself. I saw the way you looked at me; I knew I was your target of idol-worship. And..." He cleared his throat. "I thought nothing had changed when I called you into my office that day."

Numbness spread from the top of Abigail's head to the ends of her toes. "So what you're saying is, you were using me because you wanted to feel loved?" She was too hurt to be angry, and too angry to be hurt. It was a peculiar feeling.

"Yes," Percy admitted miserably, "at first. But a part of me knew that it was wrong. I had myself convinced that I hired you because you were efficient. And it became apparent very quickly that I had been mistaken." He blushed at the indignant look on his ex-assistant's face. "I mean, about your affection. I soon realized that I'd only been fooling myself into believing that you had feelings for me. And now, I'd like to apologize." His gaze dropped to the floor. "I am deeply sorry for taking advantage of you on Christmas," he said without a hint of levity. "I should not have given in to my emotions."

Abigail's eyes went wide. "Your... what?" She didn't dare bring herself to trust what she was hearing. "What do you mean, your emotions?"

The Weasley flush crept up to the tips of Percy's ears. "I... I care for you, Abigail," he whispered, not meeting the girl's eyes. "Very much. That is to say, I think I may be, well, in love. With you."

In that moment, Abigail felt as if she was back in school and everything she'd been studying all year finally clicked, just in time for finals. "Oh, Percy," she breathed, and the Minister's gaze snapped back up to look at the girl. "I think I very well may be in love with you, too." As waves of relief washed over her, the girl attempted to smile humorously; however, after a weak attempt, she gave it up. The moment felt too serious for humor.

Such a sentiment was confirmed by Percy's cautious act of re-enacting the Yuletide kiss. Only this time, both parties were certain that he wouldn't run away.


	8. Set Up

**A/N:** Well. The last chapter. I'm sorry I took so long to write this one. I'm not sorry that it's so short, though. I think it wraps everything up nicely just the way it is. This series was actually pretty fun; I never expected it to be more than a one-shot. Thank you to all of my faithful readers and reviewers for making this series a breeze to write.

* * *

"So I really just don't understand how this law even came into being. It doesn't make any sense-"

A snapping sound alerted the pair to the appearance of a piece of parchment floating in the air next to the Minister's assistant. Abigail plucked the note out of the air and read it quickly before smiling apologetically up at the head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Sorry to interrupt, but the Minister needs me right away," she explained. Abigail turned and hurried off, throwing a congenial wave over her shoulder as she went. In all honesty, the distraction couldn't have been any more welcome; the conversation wasn't exactly riveting. The Minister's timing was impeccable, as always.

Once she reached the Minister's office, she gave the customary knock before entering. "Percy? You needed to see me?"

The smile on her face dissipated with the response. "Come in, Miss Turner." Percy's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. And he had called her "Miss Turner". It was Abigail's worst fear playing itself out again.

The girl entered her boss' office hesitantly. The Minister was seated in his large desk chair facing away from the door, meaning Abigail couldn't see his face. The man must have been listening for the door to close, as he began speaking without a prompt from his assistant. "There is a matter of utmost urgency that needs to be discussed, Miss Turner." His words were almost mechanical, as if he had rehearsed them in front of the mirror all morning. Abigail swallowed the lump in her throat and took a seat in front of Percy's desk.

The large chair swiveled around to reveal a solemn expression on the red head's face. "Over these months that we have been... involved," he continued, "I have come to realize something very serious. Something that has been plaguing my thoughts for a long time." The man rose and walked around the desk, so that he stood in front of the girl.

Abigail could hardly bring herself to meet the stern gaze of the man before her. _It's over,_ she thought with resignation. _I must have done something wrong, and now he doesn't want me, and it's over._ She rapidly blinked back the beginnings of tears and took a deep breath. "May I ask what this serious thing is?" she queried timidly.

The man cleared his throat. "I have come to the decision that I must let you go, Miss Turner. Your post must be vacated."

The cold chill of confirmation raced down her spine. Her suspicions were right; he didn't want her any more. In one last act of desperation, Abigail whispered, "But why?"

A half smile crept onto Percy's face, confusing the girl. "Because I intend to ask my wife to take the job." And with that, he dropped down to one knee and dug in his robe pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Abigail felt more tears form in her eyes, but the good kind this time, as she realized happily that she had been set up. "Abigail, I need you," Percy informed her, his eyes pleading. "I can't imagine myself without you. Will you marry me?" He opened the box to reveal a small, white gold band with a single diamond set in the middle.

Abigail opened her mouth to answer and found that no words would come out. Instead, she launched herself into Percy's arms and began kissing all over his face. The man responded eagerly until their lips finally met; he pulled back after a moment and studied her face. "Is that a yes?" his question was met with laughter as Abigail nodded her head eagerly. Percy smiled and kissed his fiancée again. "Good." Hastily he stood up and brushed off his robes, his face regaining perfect composure. "Now, future Mrs. Weasley, I seem to be short one assistant. Is there anyone you might recommend for the job?"


	9. Offense

**AN:** This idea was keeping me awake. I had no plans to continue this story, but I felt that this chapter needed to be written. Here you go!

* * *

The warm yellow firelight flickered and glinted off the lenses of the Minister of Magic's horn-rimmed glasses. Percy Weasley sighed with contentment as he kicked off his shoes and stretched out at the kitchen table; the aroma of freshly brewed coffee (decaf, of course, at this late hour) filled the air and teased his nose. It was wonderful to be back after a month of traveling abroad on business. Seeing the sights of the world was exciting and grand, but to Percy there was never quite anything like home.

Abigail Weasley set a large mug of coffee in front of her husband and sat down in the chair across from him, her eyes focused on the bouquet of daisies posed in the center of the table. She clenched and unclenched her hands nervously; Percy glanced up and saw his young wife chewing on her lower lip, full of anxiety. He sat up in his chair and reached across the table to cover her hands in his. "Darling, is everything alright? You seem uneasy."

The girl met the man's gaze and sighed. "I'm sorry, Percy. I..." She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "I have a confession to make."

The minister's brow furrowed. "Go on," he urged, leaning forward.

Abigail closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. "While you were away, I... I slept with Charlie."

Percy pulled his hands away from his wife's as if he had been electrocuted. "You _what?_"

Abigail looked up to see her husband's face contorted with shock and dismay and looked away guiltily. "I swear I didn't mean for it to happen," she protested. "It was just that you'd been away for a week and I was so terribly lonely, and he was always there, waiting for me and looking at me with those big brown eyes and I-"

"Yes, I get the picture," Percy interrupted irritably. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "At least this only happened once." His wife remained uncomfortably silent. Percy leaned in closer. "Abigail. It only happened once, right?"

The girl turned bright red. "Actually, it's been every night since then."

"_What?_" Somehow, Percy found himself on his feet, as if his chair had jumped out from under him.

Abigail stood up quickly. "Oh please, Percy, don't be angry with me! I didn't mean for this to happen! It just sort of... did." Her husband's stone still face indicated that her apology had fallen flat. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll work on him, make him go back to his old bed." Noticing that Percy's hard exterior was beginning to crack, she doubled her efforts. "Let's not fight, darling. It's your first night back."

Try as he might, Percy could never withstand Abigail's pleading face. "Alright. I'm not mad." He took his wife in his arms. "I love you."

Abigail wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "I love you too, Percy. Now please, let's just go to bed."

-

Percy walked out of the washroom and into the bedroom, studying his wife's reclining form and the extra lump next to her. He scowled and made his way over to the bed.

Lifting his head, the Saint Bernard looked Percy full in the eye. The man could swear that dog was taunting him, flaunting his new position as Dog-who-sleeps-on-bed. Clearing his throat, the man pointed at the floor. "Down, Charlie. Go to bed." The dog wagged his tail once and laid his head back on the pillow, throwing in a loud snore for extra measure.

A giggle rose from the other side of the massive beast and Percy rolled his eyes at his wife. "You're not sorry at all," he grumbled, crawling under the covers.

"Yes, I am," Abigail replied through bubbles of laughter. "I just never thought I'd see the day you let a dog emasculate you."

Percy rolled over the dog to lay next to his wife, eliciting a groan and a few kicks from the animal. "You know, thanks to you it will take forever to break him of this habit," he complained as he weaved his fingers through Abigail's hair. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Abigail reached up to trace her husband's jaw. "I should be," she agreed, "but I can't say that I am." She drew his head down for a kiss. "I'm so glad you're home," she whispered.

"I love you," he whispered back, pulling her close with his free hand.

He then winced in pain as Charlie kicked him in the back once more, eliciting a hearty guffaw from Abigail. Yes, Percy thought as he sat up and shoved the dog off the edge of the bed, there's no place quite like home.


End file.
